by Bobbi Smith
RENEGADE ANGEL
“Angela?”
The sound of Blade’s voice startled Angel, and she jumped up to find him standing only a few feet behind her. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. Her heart pounded in her breast just because he was near.
“It’s not safe out here alone at night, Angela. There can be danger anywhere . . .”
“Danger? But there’s no one around.” She spoke softly, mesmerized by the way the moonlight softened his features.
“Things can happen when you’re alone in the wilderness, and . . .” Blade lifted one hand to touch her cheek.
Angel took a step closer to him. Her eyelids drifted downward as she savored the sweetness of his touch. She wanted him to kiss her.
“Ah ... Angel . . .” Blade’s voice was barely a whisper as he used her nickname for the first time. He bent to her, seeking her lips with his own. It was a tentative kiss at first, a soft exploration, but it soon exploded into something far more powerful and wonderful than she had ever imagined possible. Wrapping her in his arms, he brought her body fully against his. She felt herself yielding against him, enraptured.
She broke the kiss, only long enough to whisper, “You’re right, Blade. It’s dangerous out here. Things can happen . . .” Then she reached up her arms and waited for his lips to capture hers once more. She wanted to stay in his arms forever . . .
ROBBI SMITH
BENEATH PASSIONS SKIES
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
RENEGADE ANGEL
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Copyright Page
In memory of my mother—Miss you, Mom....
Prologue
Richmond, Virginia
Fall, 1846
Tall, blond-haired Lee Jackson, his handsome features set in rigid lines of self-control, his brown-eyed gaze hard and angry, stood beside his beloved sister Helene’s coffin staring down at her lifeless form. In life, she had been light-hearted and loving, full of fun and adventure. Many were the times when, in their childhood, she’d led him a merry chase. She’d been so willful and headstrong that he, the older brother by five years who was supposed to protect her, had been run ragged trying to keep her out of harm’s way.
Memories of Helene as a little girl besieged him. His eyes burned, and Lee closed them to still the tears that threatened. When he opened them again and looked down at his sister, he tried to tell himself that this couldn’t be Helene, but there was no denying it. The dead woman before him was his cherished sibling, and he would never hug her or hear the lilting sounds of her laughter again.
Bitterness filled Lee. When their parents had died four years before, Helene had only been fifteen and he’d become her guardian. She’d grown into a beautiful young woman and had had an army of suitors intent on winning her hand. She’d enjoyed them all, but had fallen in love with Michael Marsden, a man Lee had disliked intensely from the very start. He’d tried to warn her about this stranger to their city. He had attempted to show her the less than glowing information he’d learned about the man, but she’d been too stubborn and “too much in love” to listen. And now . . .
Lee’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he struggled to control the savage fury that filled him. Marsden . . . The man’s name was a curse on his soul. He would not rest until he saw his sister’s death avenged. The authorities had ruled her death an accident from a fall from her horse, but Lee knew differently. Helene had been an expert horsewoman. Her death had been no accident. There were strange bruises on her body, bruises that could not have been caused in a fall. He’d known then that Marsden had been responsible, but there had been no way to prove it.
Lee had confronted his brother-in-law, but Marsden had been unflinching in the face of his accusations. Lee was sorry now that he’d threatened him, for right afterward he’d left town and taken all of Helene’s considerable inheritance with him. The man’s cowardly flight only convinced Lee all the more of his guilt. Lee vowed somehow, some way, no matter what the cost, he was going to find the bastard and make him pay for what he’d done.
A violent, searing hatred filled Lee. Had he not been forced to stay in town and see to Helene’s funeral, he would have gone after Marsden as soon as he’d discovered him missing. Now the murderer had a head start on him, but Lee would follow; and when he caught him, Helene would be avenged. He would see to it.
Chapter One
Philadelphia
One Year Later
“Oh, Michael . . .” Celia Maguire sighed. “You’re wonderful.”
“And so are you, my dear.” Michael Marsden smiled down at the dark-haired, dark-eyed young beauty lying naked beneath him. It wasn’t a smile of affection that curved his handsome mouth, though, but one of immense self-satisfaction. Michael never ceased to be amazed at how naive and stupid women were and how easily they fell prey to his calculated advances. This seventeen-year-old maid from the Windsor household had come to him like a ripe plum, tumbling into his bed with an eager willingness that had surprised even him. He had never guessed he would meet with such unhampered success, but he wasn’t about to complain. His plan was progressing at a rate he hadn’t dreamed possible—and with very little effort. Soon.... very soon, he would win that which he sought and claim the ultimate prize.
Celia believed Michael truly desired her for herself, and she gazed up at him adoringly. Michael Marsden was the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Desire blossomed anew within her as she studied his classically perfect features, blue eyes, and blond hair. He was so rich and so powerful! Her heartbeat quickened, and she shivered with the knowledge that she was here in his arms. Being a lowly servant far removed from his social circle, Celia didn’t know what she’d done to merit his attentions, but she wasn’t about to question her good fortune. The moment was too perfect. Wanting to make love with him again before she had to leave, she moved sinuously against him.
“You’re an eager little thing,” Michael remarked with a chuckle. He responded to her enticing movements by caressing her ample curves.
“Only for you,” she whispered breathlessly.
Michael silenced her declarations of devotion with a harsh kiss. He felt no emotion for Celia, and he despised the fact that she was trying to romanticize what was a purely physical act for him. It suited his purpose to have her, so he took her. She was a means to an end, nothing more.
They coupled in heated silence, the quiet broken only by their ragged breathing and by Celia’s cry of final ecstasy as she attained her pleasure. The act finished, Michael moved away from her clinging presence.
“Dawn is nearly upon us, sweet,” he told her in a tone he hoped conveyed regret.
“I know. I have to go,” she sighed. “I can’t afford to be late.”
“Even now that Windsor’s dead?”
“It’s worse now. His older spinster-sister, Blanche, has moved in and taken over. She gave Mrs. Delaney, the housekeeper, a free hand with us, and there’ll be hell to pay if I’m not there on time.” Celia pressed one last kiss on his lips and then rose from the bed. She was very conscious of Michael’s eyes on her as she began to dress, and she longed to climb back into the wide, comfortable bed with him and forget the dull drudgery of her life. “Things are really different with the old man gone.”
“Why?” Michael asked, taking care not to show how pleased he was that she was finally talking about her employer. He’d been waiting all night for a chance to bring up the subject of the Windsor family, and now she had done it for him.
“Well, they had the reading of the will yesterday afternoon ...”
“Oh?” Michael pretended ignorance of the matter, while in truth he was very much aware of it. It had been for that reason, and that reason alone, that he’d brought Celia to his bed last night. Household servants always knew the details of what was going on in their employers’ lives, and he hoped to glean some important information from her.
“Yes, Mr. Windsor left each of his daughters very well off, of course, but there was a real interesting clause in the will.”
“There was? You mean he didn’t divide everything equally?” Michael had to force himself not to sound eager.
“No. Mr. Windsor had always wanted a son, and, evidently, he was still so upset about never having had one that he put a clause in the will that leaves the bulk of his business interests to his first-born grandson.”
“He what?” Michael was astounded. This was almost too good to be true!
Celia mistook his excitement for disbelief. “It’s crazy. His business associates are in control until the boy turns ten, then he’ll inherit everything. It’s strange, isn’t it? What if his daughters never have a son?”
“It’s very strange,” Michael agreed, but he couldn’t have been more delighted. A sense of euphoria gripped him. His family had a history of siring only males. There hadn’t been a female Marsden born for three generations.
“Mary, the other kitchen maid, and me were wondering which of the girls would get married first to try to claim the money. Seems it’s not much of a contest, though, since Elizabeth is eighteen and the other two, Sarah and Angela, are only eleven and nine. Of course, the oldest one might have only daughters and that would give the other two a chance. We were laughing about that when Mrs. Delaney walked in and caught us.” Celia grimaced as she remembered their run-in with the formidable, white-haired battle-ax. “Mrs. Delaney said we were crude to think that everyone else was as greedy as we were. She said the Windsor girls love each other and that the money doesn’t matter to them.”
“She’s probably right,” Michael said thoughtfully. Everything he’d learned about the three daughters since coming to Philadelphia earlier that month seemed to indicate that the housekeeper’s assessment was true.
“Well, if that’s true, then they’re stupid. If I were one of them, I’d be marrying a man today and bedding him tonight just to get my hands on the rest of that money ten years down the road!” she announced as she pulled on her dress and fastened the buttons.
As Celia spoke, Michael saw the gleam of jealousy and avarice in her eyes, and he knew he’d have to be careful how he handled her once he put his plan into action. Rising from the bed, he went to take her in his arms. She’d just given him the bit of information he’d been hoping for, and he was not ungrateful. He kissed her.
“Will I see you again?” Celia asked anxiously.
“Of course. I’ll send for you,” he promised.
Celia left him then, slipping from his room at the fancy hotel without anyone taking notice. She felt as if she were walking on air as she headed back to her job at the Windsor mansion. Michael Marsden desired her and he wanted to see her again! Fantasies of her new lover filled her head, and she wondered how soon he would send for her. She hoped it would be that very next night.
Celia would have been devastated had she known that Michael never gave her another thought after she’d gone. As soon as he’d closed the door behind her, Michael began planning his seduction of and wedding to another woman—Elizabeth Windsor. He would turn on all his charm and claim the oldest heiress for his own. He’d heard she was a quiet girl, and if that proved to be true, he was certain she would be no match for his ardent courtship. She would be his.
Michael gave a triumphant laugh as he vowed to himself to marry the wench in less than six months time. He would have preferred a quicker trip to the altar, but he knew there would be resistance because of her state of mourning. Anxious though he was, it didn’t pay to flaunt every rule of society. He would console Elizabeth, and he would offer her a strong shoulder to lean on in this, her time of need. By the time he proposed, she’d be so smitten, she’d never even think of saying ‘no.’
Ignoring the triviality of getting her with child, Michael mused on his goal of taking control of the Windsor inheritance. It didn’t even occur to him that Elizabeth might not give birth to a boy. He wanted one; therefore, she would have one. The fortune would be his.
Four months later at the Windsor home
“Do you really think it’s all right, Aunt Blanche?” blonde-haired, brown-eyed Elizabeth Windsor asked her aunt as the maid helped her don the dark blue satin gown. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, but her expression was a bit worried as she awaited her aunt’s answer. Tonight was the night she’d been longing for! In just a few moments, Michael Marsden would be coming for her to escort her to the Utter-sons’ ball. Elizabeth wanted desperately to attend with the handsome, dashing Marsden who’d been so kind and attentive since her father’s death, but it had been only four months since the funeral, and she feared gossip would result.
“Of course, it’s all right, Elizabeth,” the gray-haired, bird-like spinster responded from where she perched on the edge of her oldest niece’s bed. Though initially she’d hesitated at the thought of Elizabeth going to a social gathering so soon, Michael had completely won her over. Charmer that he was, Blanche had been completely powerless before the force of his personality. She had given in to his wishes like a willow bending before a hurricane wind. “Michael’s a perfect gentleman. He would never compromise you in any way.”
“You’re right, of course,” Elizabeth agreed, thoughts of the debonair young man bringing a smile to her lovely features. She was a pretty young woman, but growing up knowing that her father had wanted a son had rendered her less than sure of her own self-worth. She found being the center of Michael’s attentions dazzling and flattering.
“There’s no need to worry about anyone talking about you. If they do, it will be because they’re envious,” Blanche confided, thinking how lucky her niece was to be going out with Marsden. Though Michael was relatively new in town, it was well-known that he was very successful. Why, the suite of rooms he’d taken at one of the best hotels in town was costing him a small fortune. He gained entree wherever he went and was seen only with the most influential members of Philadelphia society. He was a man with class and breeding, and he would make an excellent husband for Elizabeth. Blanche only hoped things progressed in that direction.
“Thank you.” Elizabeth gave her elderly guardian a hug. “Do you think this gown is appropriate?” she asked as she smoothed the demure, full-skirted dress.
“Yes, darling, it’s just the thing. Since this is your first outing since the funeral, it’s best to keep—”
Their conversation was interrupted as eleven-year-old Sarah, the middle sister, came running into the room. A little bit heavy for her age, she was of average height, with medium brown hair and brown eyes. Yet, while there was nothing extraordinary about her physical appearance, she exuded an inner happiness that no one could ignore. Sarah always looked for the good in everyone and always credited them with the best of intentions. She was a delight to be around, and everyone who knew her loved her.
&nbs
p; “He’s here! Michael’s here!” Sarah announced, her dark eyes aglow. She thought Michael Marsden the most wonderful man in the whole wide world, and she was as thrilled by Elizabeth’s date with him as Elizabeth was. “His carriage just pulled up!”
“Oh, good.” Michael had arrived! Elizabeth paused only long enough to give her sister a quick kiss on the cheek, then hurried for the door. She couldn’t wait for him to see her dressed up. In the months he’d been coming to call, she’d had to wear mourning clothes, but tonight would be different. At last, she could dress for him as a woman should. She wanted to please him, to win his heart as he had already won hers. Elizabeth hoped tonight would be the beginning of a true and real courtship for them.
Michael was more than pleased with himself as he mounted the front steps to the palatial Windsor home. Since that day, months ago, when he’d made his first call to the family to pay his respects, he’d been resolute in bestowing his attentions on the young, impressionable Elizabeth. Tonight he would reap the rewards of his efforts.
Michael was glad that he’d managed to overcome senile Aunt Blanche’s initial objections to her niece’s appearing in public so soon. It had annoyed him to have to play the fool to the doddering, old woman but he’d done it. With flattery and pure force of will, he’d won her over. Elizabeth would attend the ball with him.
Elizabeth. A fleeting image of her crossed his mind as he raised the solid brass doorknocker and let it fall. She was a passably pretty girl, and she was certainly malleable enough. In fact, the truth be known, she was much too eager to please him for his own tastes. He liked more sophisticated women, women who knew how to play love’s games. The promise of all that Windsor money, however, kept his interest in the virginal heiress very much alive. After they’d married and she’d borne him the required son, he would return to indulging his own jaded desires. Until then, he would bide his time and do whatever was necessary to achieve his goal. Michael’s musings were interrupted as Robert, the Windsor’s butler, opened the door.